<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Keep Friday Open by sir_kingsley</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487152">Keep Friday Open</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_kingsley/pseuds/sir_kingsley'>sir_kingsley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Coffee Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Ex-Con Dean Winchester, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Recovering Alcoholic Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 14:35:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22487152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_kingsley/pseuds/sir_kingsley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The man behind the bar beams as Castiel approaches and Castiel can feel how his heart races the closer he gets, just as it has every morning since his first visit. If the store’s fascinating ambiance and delicious coffee hadn’t been enough to make Castiel a regular, he’s pretty sure the owner’s face would have. </p>
<p>Castiel has seen and dated his fair share of handsome men but Dean Winchester gives the word a whole new definition, raises the bar to heights only to be reached by gods. Dean’s existence may just be the proof that gods do exist, because Castiel is quite certain only the hands of a higher being could so carefully and perfectly design a man as beautiful as Dean.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>229</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Keep Friday Open</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello everyone! Here is a random drabble thing that my flu-induced mind conjured. If it sucks, I blame the illness. If you like it, that was all me 100%. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Tuesday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel’s phone rings for what must be the seventh time that morning and he rolls his eyes in just as many. Stubbornness and pride tell him to ignore it again, but the more logical side of his mind knows the calls will only continue and it’s best to get it out of the way before he gets to work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bartholomew,” he answers gruffly as he shoulders his way down the busy sidewalk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Castiel, I’ve been calling you all morning,” a smooth and irritatingly calm voice says through the speaker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I can read caller ID.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a sigh on the other line and Castiel wishes he could reach through the receiver and choke the smug bastard who dares to think he gets to be the put-upon one in this situation. “This has been going on long enough. I thought we had agreed to talk-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I am ready,” Castiel cuts him off. “You don’t get to control the timeline anymore, Bartholomew, and you certainly don’t get to rush me just because you don’t want to deal with your own shame anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to rush you-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then stop calling me. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to talk. Until then, leave me alone and try to keep your dick in your pants for once.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a farewell, Castiel disconnects the call and drops his phone in his pocket. His hand feels sweaty and he scowls, rubbing it on his coat. It’s a little thing but it makes Castiel want to punch the nearest stop sign because he hates how that conceited asshole still has the ability to affect him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Castiel can actually inflict any damage on the poor street signs, he sees the sign for Hallowed Grounds. Like a light at the end of the tunnel, he scurries down the street and into the coffeeshop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hallowed Grounds was an interesting little spot. For the most part, it looked like a modern apothecary, dark brick walls lined with wooden shelves hoisting glasswares and sprawling, spiraling plants hanging and curling around every available surface. There were crooked bookcases that looked a strong breath away from toppling over. But there were also old vinyls hanging behind the bar and a collage of cat artwork leading to the restrooms. The bookcases were accompanied by a pair of old wingback chairs and a wicker basket of blankets, just beckoning some tired soul to take a nap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s perhaps the oddest establishment Castiel has ever seen but it’s warm and homey and the staff is friendly and professional. Well, all of them except for one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning, Cas!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel’s eyes roll for the eighth time that morning but this one is accompanied by a smile. “Good morning, Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man behind the bar beams as Castiel approaches and Castiel can feel how his heart races the closer he gets, just as it has every morning since his first visit. If the store’s fascinating ambiance and delicious coffee hadn’t been enough to make Castiel a regular, he’s pretty sure the owner’s face would have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel has seen and dated his fair share of handsome men but Dean Winchester gives the word a whole new definition, raises the bar to heights only to be reached by gods. Dean’s existence may just be the proof that gods do exist, because Castiel is quite certain only the hands of a higher being could so carefully and perfectly design a man as beautiful as Dean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Get a grip, Novak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Castiel admonishes himself. Waxing poetic about a near stranger before eight a.m. That might be a new low. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got you all ready to go,” Dean says with a smile and slides a to-go cup across the wooden bar. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel doesn’t even doubt that it’s his usual. “Impeccable customer service, as always,” he says as he fishes out his wallet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I save this level for special customers. And don’t even bother with the wallet, doc,” Dean warns. “You know your money’s no good here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you going to start letting me pay you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes twinkle under the glow of the Edison bulbs above them. The coffeeshop is too dark to tell their color which has frustrated Castiel more times than he cares to count. “Maybe once you finally accept my offer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know I have a boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugs, not looking even the slightest deterred. “I’ll keep my Friday nights open for you just in case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel can’t help a fond grin as he takes the coffee and backs away. “Have a lovely day, Dean.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too, Cas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel steps back onto the street, his hands warm and smile still in place. And it stays that way all the way to campus and while his first class of the day files in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Wednesday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel is up to his neck in student papers and ready to launch every single one of them out the window when there’s a knock at his door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Cassie darling,” Balthazar hisses with empathy. “What on Earth are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it look like, Balthazar?” Castiel snips not even bothering to look up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An off brand of torture, to be quite honest,” Balthazar says as he moves into Castiel’s office, his cologne filling the tiny space. “Where is your TA?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kevin caught the flu,” Castiel groans into his hands, finally giving up. “And I have to have these graded by the end of the week.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be lucky to have a dozen finished by the end of the day if you continue like this. Luckily,” Balthazar begins, a tone of righteousness wavering on Castiel’s last nerve, “I have come to offer my assistance.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel quirks a brow. “You’re going to help me grade?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, god no,” Balthazar says quickly, flipping his hand like he’s batting away Castiel’s suggestion before it can touch him and actually make him work. “I have my own nightmare waiting on my desk. But I thought we could both use a break and some caffeine and I happen to know of a little coffee shop nearby with a barista whose smile alone could have talked Mother Theresa out of her chastity belt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your way with words never ceases to amaze me,” Castiel says dryly. But he stands and grabs his coat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They chat idly on their way to Hallowed Grounds, Castiel more distracted by the conversation happening on his phone. Balthazar notices and leans close to catch a glimpse before Castiel can hide it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you’re even still entertaining that idiot,” he growls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel’s ears heat up and he ducks his head as if he can hide from the shame. “I know,” he sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re far too good for him, Castiel. Always have been. But after everything he did-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, Balthazar,” Castiel repeats. “Trust me. But it’s… complicated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheating is not complicated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But giving up a six-year relationship is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar has no argument for that so he says nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They walked into Hallowed Grounds together and fall into the back of the line. Castiel catches sight of Dean working the bar with Charlie, his business partner. The two work well together, navigating the small space as they fill orders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cas!” Dean says excitedly when they reach the front of the line. “Missed you this morning. I was afraid something happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of Dean worrying about him makes Castiel’s chest tighten and he calls himself ridiculous for it. “I didn’t have time to stop this morning,” he explains. “I was trying to get a head start on some work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel that. I’ll have your usual in a second. And Balthazar… an americano, right?” Dean slides his smile to the blonde man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar’s grin is almost predatory even as he bats his lashes and leans into the counter. “Ah, handsome, you remembered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean winks and moves to fill their orders. “How’s the new semester going so far, docs?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Castiel answers even as Balthazar groans and says, “Terrible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel rolls his eyes. “He’s being dramatic. We just have a lot of grading to catch up on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t school just start like two weeks ago?” Charlie asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two professors blush furiously. “Yes,” they mumble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie chuckles. “Man, I remember cursing my professors to hell and back for assigning shit so early in the year. Never really stopped to think they could be shooting themselves in the foot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither did we,” Balthazar mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s better for the students, especially once we get deeper into the semester,” Castiel explains. “Spreads the work out more so they’re not too overwhelmed by the end. Our goal this semester was not to add to the stress of dead week. I think we remember all too well how that felt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie, Castiel, and Balthazar share a shutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean returns with a lopsided grins and slides the coffees over. “Y’all almost make me glad I never had to go through any of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel tilts his head. “You never had to deal with dead week? What magical school did you go to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shakes his head, still grinning. “Nah, I mean I never had to deal with college.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The comeback on Castiel’s tongue vanishes and he feels his brain spin, eyes just blinking as the words fully process. “Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charlie says something then, drawing everyone’s attention and Castiel uses the distraction to get himself together. He’d never considered that Dean may not have a degree. Not that it should matter, of course. It’s just that Castiel has never talked to someone without a higher education before. His entire childhood had been about preparing for the best schools, getting himself into a position to earn as many degrees as possible, and the folks he’d grown up with had all been the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cassie, you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel startles when Balthazar brushes his arm, finally focusing and noticing the three pairs of eyes on him. One pair in particular that is regarding him with a wariness he’s never seen before. It makes Castiel’s stomach roll. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, I’m ready. Uh…” He starts patting down his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your money’s no good here, Cas,” Dean reminds him, his voice much quieter than usual. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel pauses. “You know, one day you’re going to realize how much revenue you’ve lost on me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smiles, soft and careful. “You’re never a loss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel returns the smile. “Thank you, Dean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean nods. “My pleasure. And don’t forget - my Fridays are always open for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar has the decency to at least wait until their outside before he starts teasing Castiel for the interaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should really give him a chance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel frowns. “I have a boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, the one who cheated on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel flinches at the blunt reminder. “We’re working on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar sighs. “I’ll never understand the logic behind you trying to fix a relationship that’s been sinking for years so you can stay with a man who clearly has no thought or care for you when there’s a handsome gentleman just waiting for you to allow him to worship the ground you walk on.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean is just playing around,” Castiel argues. “It’s like a game for him. Surely he knows we couldn’t possibly ever work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you say that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel sputters. “Well, b-because we- we just wouldn’t. We’re from entirely different worlds, Balthazar. He’d be bored of me in minutes and we both have extremely busy schedules. It’s just a nightmare waiting to happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar doesn’t look the least bit convinced. Still, he hums as they walk further down the street. “You don’t have to date him then. You could just fuck him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel chokes on his coffee. “Balthazar!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? You’re convinced a relationship wouldn’t work and maybe you’re right. But you could have sex with him. How long has it even been since you got laid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Balthazar!” Castiel chastises again, his face beat red. “That’s personal!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That long, Cassie?” Balthazar looks appalled. “This won’t do. See, this is why you’re still caught up on that boring drone of a man. You’re horny. But we have an easy fix for this. And his name is Dean Winchester.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not going to sleep with Dean to get over Bartholomew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar gags. “Please don’t say his name. It’s as repulsive and ugly as his face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel can’t help the laugh that jumps out of him. “That was mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also true.” They reach their building and hurry into the warmth and up to their offices. “Look, I just want the best for you. And it’s not that clown who can’t be faithful. But Dean is a sweet man and he likes you. Let him take you to dinner and see how you like it. If you’re not into him, just tell him and end it there. But if you like him… give him a real shot, Cas. He could surprise you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel stops outside his office. “You really think he’s serious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar’s eyes tell him that may have been the dumbest question he’s ever asked. “I swear, all those credentials hanging on your wall and you’re still the thickest man I’ve ever met,” he grumbles and takes off down the hall. “Just ask him on a date!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <b>Thursday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the next morning, Castiel has completely managed to convince himself out of everything Balthazar had advised. He wasn’t going to date Dean or hook up with him just because it’s been a while. It would be wrong to use Dean like that. And it wasn’t the right timing for Castiel either. He still had plenty to figure out with this whole Bartholomew situation and if anything, he needed to take time for himself before he tried to move on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling much more secure in his decision, he prepares to leave his apartment - and nearly trips over a vase of roses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scowling, Castiel regains his balance and picks up the vase. He catches the card and reads familiar handwriting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Missing you. Bart.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Part of Castiel wants to scoff. The rest of him knows this is Bartholomew trying and he appreciates the effort. Little as it may be. He tucks the card into his pocket and puts the vase inside before locking up and heading to work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the way, the phone call comes and he answers, trying for a more pleasant tone. “Good morning, Bartholomew.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you get my gift?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did. They were lovely. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything for you, Cas. I really do miss you.” And his voice sounds rich and sincere and longing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel sighs, eyes drifting upward to the sky and praying for some patience. “I miss you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really think we should try to see each other soon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bart…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be anything special. I just want to see you. Talk. I miss my friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s like he knows the perfect words to say. Because Castiel misses his friend too, misses who Bartholomew was to him long before they began sharing kisses and each other’s beds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes into Hallowed Grounds then and raises his hand when Dean shouts his name. “I miss you too, Bart. I just… I don’t know if it’s the right time yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel doesn’t miss the way Dean starts to frown as Cas gets closer. He pushes a cup across the counter as usual and Cas reaches for his wallet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could just go to a movie or something,” Bartholomew suggests in his ear. “So we can just enjoy-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Money’s no good here, Cas,” Dean says when Cas offers his card. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean, I - hold on a second, Bart.” Castiel lowers his phone. “You know I can’t not offer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugs. “Don’t want it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a horrible business model, you know,” Castiel grins as he accepts the cup. “Just letting people walk out of here with free coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, like I keep telling you,” Dean says with another shrug, his voice dipping lower in a way that makes something in Castiel’s stomach curl. “It’s only for the special customers. You have a nice day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel backs away slowly and it isn’t until he’s almost outside that he remembers Bartholomew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bart? Are you still there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the hell was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The change in Bartholomew’s voice is unignorable and chilling. Castiel frowns. “The barista at the coffee shop I stop at.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two sound pretty close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I see him every day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just seemed a little too friendly for a customer interaction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few seconds for the unspoken accusation to latch on and when it does Castiel feels fire under his skin. He stops abruptly, someone running into him from behind and Castiel almost drops his coffee as he growls into the phone. “Are you really trying to say what I think you’re saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not saying anything,” Bartholomew says stiffly and Castiel can practically see the way he turns his nose up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really trying to accuse me of being with someone else? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>? After everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All I know is that it’s taking you a really long time to make up your mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You had an affair!” Castiel screams into his phone, earning more than a few concerned looks. “I am allowed to take my time when deciding if I want to trust you again. You cheated on me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that!” Bartholomew screams back. “And I’ve given you your damn time. But it’s been weeks and we’re getting nowhere! How are we supposed to fix this if you won’t even see me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel can hardly believe what he’s hearing, how casually Bartholomew is trying to sweep his mistakes under the rug. Invalidating Castiel’s feelings, making Castiel feel like he’s being the unreasonable one. Again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this time Castiel is able to recognize it. This time he knows better. And he won’t be manipulated into forgiving this bastard a second time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re so damn tired of waiting, then let me take care of it now: we’re through. I’ll send the rest of your shit to your sister’s house. Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t send any more flowers. Don’t even think of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Castiel, you’re being unrea-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Bartholomew!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel hangs up before he can hear another damn word. He’s left panting in the middle of the street, other pedestrians giving him a wide berth as if they can sense his distress. And they probably can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That asshole really had the balls to accuse Castiel of cheating. To make Castiel sound untrustworthy. Unfaithful. Six fucking years together and Castiel has never given that man a reason to doubt him, even when people had offered, asked him to leave, told him he was just hurting himself in the long run by staying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>How many times had Castiel made himself sound like a fool defending that bastard to his friends and family? How many good men had Castiel turned away over the years, good men who wanted to make him as happy as he would make them? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all Castiel ever wanted. Just a good man to spend his life with. To care about him. To treat him like he’s someone who matters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s a handsome gentleman just waiting for you to allow him to worship the ground you walk on…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar’s words from yesterday echo through Castie’s head and he’s moving without even realizing it, backtracking to the coffee shop and rushing inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean is with another customer, eyes darting up with concern when he sees Castiel storming toward him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, you okay, Cas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you being serious about Friday night?” Castiel demands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean blinks. “Uh, yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I accept.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Dean blinks. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to go on a date with you. Tomorrow night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O...kay,” Dean says slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never better!” Castiel shouts. “See you tomorrow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time when Castiel leaves the shop, he’s practically gliding. The high remains until he’s reached campus and is in the middle of his lecture. When he drops, he drops hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because he just asked out Dean. In a very aggressive, inappropriate way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, you what?” Balthazar laughs when Castiel confides in him later, nearly falling off the corner of Castiel’s desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel covers his face. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you were,” Balthazar says. “But that being said, good for you, Cassie! I’m proud of you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He probably thinks I’m insane,” Castiel whines. “I can’t believe I did that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure a man likes Dean Winchester has dated far crazier than a man who screams he wants a date across his coffee shop.” Castiel feels himself redden. “You’ll be fine, Cas,” Balthazar promises. “You did good for yourself today. Dumped an ugly welt of a man and got a date with a gorgeous business owner. Not bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I-I- I don’t even know what we’re going to do or where we’ll we go. I didn’t discuss any of it with him. I just yelled at him and left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar laughs again, hasn’t really stopped since the conversation began. “Just stop by on your way home and check with him. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a calmer conversation and discuss your plans.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So that’s what Castiel does, though his walk to Hallowed Grounds is much slower than usual. He just isn’t in a hurry to see the man he embarrassed himself in front of. Sue him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s well after six o’clock by the time Castiel reaches the shop and he’s bone tired from a day of lectures and an afternoon grading. Kevin is still out sick until next week and the poor boy will likely be so busy trying to get caught up on school work, he won’t be of much help anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Castiel reaches Hallowed Grounds, he stops outside because it almost looks closed. The lights are still on, but he doesn’t see anyone behind the bar. Instead, there’s a small circle of people in chairs near the front, like a meeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, excuse me?” a soft voice asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel jumps away and finds a young man behind him. He gestures to the door. “Oh, yes, sorry.” Castiel backs away and the young man reaches for the door. “Um, may I ask what’s going on in there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“AA meeting,” the man responds and slips inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel blinks, barely remembering to catch the door before it clicks shut. Why would there be an AA meeting in Dean’s coffee shop? Curiosity more than piqued, Castiel follows the young man inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shop is still warm and smells of coffee but the mood is far more subdued. The people in the circle are sitting quietly, all eyes on one man sitting with his back to Castiel as he speaks. It takes a moment for Castiel to recognize the voice, but when he does, it feels something inside him shatter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been five years since I’ve had a drink. And I’m proud of myself. I am,” Dean says, voice softer than Castiel has ever heard it. “Whenever I start to think about the bottle, I just remind myself of everything it led to. The time I lost drinking, the time I wasted in prison. I think of the people I hurt, the ones I still can’t bring myself to talk to because I’m ashamed. I lost so much in that period of my life… But that doesn’t mean you can’t gain some of it back. I work my ass off every day to build a life I’m proud of. I’m surrounded by good people who care about me and I’m making amends with people I hurt. Earlier today, I even scored a…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of Dean’s story is lost as Castiel slips back outside. Prison. Dean had said prison. But that… couldn’t be right. Only very, very bad people went to prison, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Castiel had just misheard. But deep down, he knows he didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean is a criminal. A felon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Castiel has a date with him tomorrow night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel jumps for the second time that night. But his heart doesn’t calm down when he turns this time and finds Dean standing not too far from him. He smiles. It’s still too dark outside to see the color of his eyes but his smile glows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Dean asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, I just- I was just leaving, uh, campus, and I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Late night again, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>All Castiel can do is nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m glad I caught you.” Dean steps closer and Castiel has to fight not to jerk away. “After you yelled and ran out this morning I realized we never discussed where we wanted to go for our date. And I don’t have a way to contact you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right. That… makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean frowns and glances behind him as a few people exit the shop. Dean wishes them goodbye before turning back around. “You got any ideas then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel struggles to find words. “N-not really…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes light up under the streetlights. “Well, my friend Benny just opened this little cajun place on the riverfront. It’s real nice. Live music and the best gumbo you’ll ever taste outside of New Orleans.” Dean grins. “His words not mine. Would that work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, all Castiel can do is nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awesome. How about we meet there around seven tomorrow night? It’s called Andreas. Cool?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ye-yeah, yes, yeah. Cool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s nose crinkles as he laughs. “You’re funny. Okay, see you tomorrow night. I’m really excited about this. Have a good night, Cas!” And with that, he disappears back inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel stands there for another few minutes, just staring into space and praying this has all just been a nightmare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Friday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel doesn’t have Friday classes and therefore no reason to leave his apartment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He happily buries himself in the papers he needs to finish grading, seeking any and all distractions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morning fades into afternoon fades into evening. The sun starts to set. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches the minutes pass on his phone from his couch. Seven o’clock. He thinks of Dean sitting at some restaurant alone, that same bright-eyed smile on his face he always gets when he sees Cas. He thinks about how this could have been his opportunity to learn to color of Dean’s eyes, memorize the weight of his hand in Castiel’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about Dean’s story with alcoholism and prison. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prison</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The clock keeps ticking and Castiel doesn’t move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Monday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean you didn’t go?” Balthazar demands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s nearly noon but Castiel still deems it far too early for such an outburst, especially when he’s had no caffeine and sporting one hell of a wine hangover. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel holds up a hand, begging for peace. “You don’t understand, Balthazar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is there to understand, exactly?” Balthazar asks. “You had a date with a beautiful man who likes you and you stood him up? It’s not just stupid, it’s cruel, Cas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Cas grumbles, more to himself. “Trust me, Balth, I know it was a dick move. But I… I just couldn’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And just why not?” Balthazar pauses, coming to a screeching half and turns suspicious eyes on his friend. “Please don’t tell me you took that sorry sack back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel squints. “What? What sack? Wait, you mean Bartholomew? God, no!” He flinches at his own shout and tries to dial it back. “No, no, of course not. It has nothing to do with Bartholomew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Than explain yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel sighs, a deep, longsuffering one. “He’s a criminal, Balth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I stopped back by the shop last Thursday night like you said and there was an AA meeting going on,” Castiel explains quietly. “I heard Dean sharing. Apparently he’s an addict and he went to prison.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar doesn’t react at first, just continues staring. Slowly, he falls in one of Castiel’s office chairs, face pensive. “Never would have guessed,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel snorts. “You’re not the only one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, did you ask him about it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Why would I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But then how do you know what he was arrested for? It could have been something stupid or trivial.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was prison, Balthazar. Not jail. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prison</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar shrugs. “The American criminal justice system is one of the most flawed in the world, Castiel. You know this. Just because the man went to prison doesn’t mean he’s some kind of monster. You could at least let him explain.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel shakes his head. “Balthazar, no. No. I can’t- I can’t date a felon. Even if it was for something dumb, prison changes people. He could be dealing with all sorts of trauma. And on top of it, he’s an addict. I mean, the man never even went to college. For all I know he could have a ninth-grade education and you want me to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eleventh grade, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel’s head snaps up as though yanked by the hair and he’s pretty sure if he’d had anything in his stomach just then, he would have spewed it all across his office. Because standing in his doorway is Dean, holding a cup of coffee and a little pastry bag. Balthazar seems to shrink in on himself as well, though he has no reason. Dean’s eyes are firmly glued to Castiel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dean,” Castiel starts. “I didn’t- I wasn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I went back and got my GED after lockup though,” Dean cuts him off. He holds up the cup and bag and awkwardly moves into the tiny room to set them on Castiel’s desk. “Here. I, uh, I thought you had stood me up Friday, but when you didn’t come in this morning either I was worried something happened. Looks like I had it right the first time, though. I’ll get out of your hair. Have a good rest of your day, docs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel is standing before he even thinks, nearly knocking the coffee off the side of his desk. “Dean, wait-” He shoots worried eyes at Balthazar who just shrugs, eyes just as wide and lost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chases Dean down the hall to the elevators. “Dean,” he calls. “Please, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean for it to come off so judgmental.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean doesn’t look at Castiel. He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s not. It was incredibly rude of me and standing you up for unforgivable. I truly am sorry, Dean. I just… I didn’t know how to react.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have asked me. I wouldn’t have lied to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel nods, acknowledging the fair point. “Well, why had you never mentioned it before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean quirks an incredulous eyebrow. “Because my criminal background isn’t really something I like to discuss with my customers? Not exactly good for business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But all the flirting and asking me out. You never considered sharing that information before I said yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s head falls and, for a moment, Castiel thinks he’s crying. But then he looks up again and he’s smiling. It’s the ugliest smile Castiel has ever seen. It’s a smile sharped by hurt and a lot of self-hate and it looks so out of place on Dean’s beautiful face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know why I even started asking you out, Cas?” he asks, finally meeting Castiel’s eyes. Castiel nearly gasps when he registers the color, a beautiful garden green. “Because I always knew you’d say no. I didn’t have to worry about getting my hopes crushed or my feelings hurt or telling you the truth because I knew you were too good to ever say yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Dean steps inside and Castiel lurches after him, keep the doors at bay with a hand. “Dean, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean waves him off. “It’s fine, Cas. Believe me, I understand. You have a nice day, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, Castiel releases the door and steps back, allowing them to slide shut and take Dean away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Thursday</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to go fix things with that man because you’re an absolute beast without caffeine,” Balthazar says snidely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel almost growls at him. “I tried to go apologize but he won’t come out and talk to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d stopped by Hallowed Grounds Tuesday and Wednesday morning to try to apologize. Every time, Dean was in the back. He tried asking Charlie to go get him but Dean would send her back with some flimsy excuse. The message was loud and clear: Dean wanted nothing to do with Castiel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hurts more than he cares to acknowledge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t exactly blame him,” Balthazar grumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Balthazar,” Castiel sighs. “You’re not helping.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, neither are you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel looks up. “What else would you have me do? Stand outside the man’s window with a boombox and sing him my apologies? Have a plane write it in the sky?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar seems to consider it for a moment. “That may be a start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel shakes his head, tired of his friend’s joking. “There’s nothing else I can do. If Dean doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s his decision and I need to respect his space.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you respecting his space because you want to do what’s best for him or because it’s easier for you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar’s challenge hits like a slap to the face and Castiel can feel himself turning red as though he was truly hurt. “I-I-I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Balthazar lifts a single brow, waiting. When Castiel still has no response, he simply nods. “As I thought. Try again, Castiel. Or you’re going to regret this for a very long time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel scowls as his friend exits his office. Smug bastard. When did he get so wise anyway?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a lot of internal arguing for Castiel to decide to stop outside Hallowed Grounds that night on his way home. He notices the familiar setup, people arranged in a tight circle as they talk and share. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel doesn’t go inside this time, but sits on the steps outside and waits. After about a half hour, people start filing out and eventually when Castiel looks inside it’s just Dean cleaning up the chairs. He reaches for the door, takes a breath, and steps inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bell sings and Dean straightens up. “Oh, hey, we’re closed. I’m just- oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both just kind of freeze when they recognize each other. Then, Dean goes back to his chore, moving the chairs back to the tables. “What are you doing here?” he asks and Castiel doesn’t miss the chill in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to apologize,” Castiel explains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You already did. Said it was fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s not fine,” Castiel argues. “Dean, I hurt you. A lot. And I had no right to. I had no right to judge you or say the things I did. You’ve never been anything but kind and respectful to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean shrugs. “Just doing my job.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel flinches. “Don’t… please don’t say that. I know I hurt you, but please don’t pretend I never meant anything more to you. I don’t think I could actually handle that right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last chair in place, Dean heads toward the bar, putting as much space as possible between himself and Castiel. Castiel just follows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Cas?” Dean says. “Look, I get it. You feel bad. You don’t have do. I’ve heard a lot worse. And no matter how bad you feel, it doesn’t change that everything you said was true. I’m an addict. I went to prison before I could graduate high school. I don’t have any fancy degrees or a fancy job. I have this.” He holds his arms out, enveloping the comfy shop around them. When he looks at Castiel, there’s a challenge in his eyes, as if daring Castiel to judge him again. “This is my work. Mine and Charlie’s. And I’m proud of it, Cas. I’m proud of myself for finally getting my shit together and doing something good with my life. But I can’t change my past and I won’t justify myself to you or anyone. So you’re forgiven, okay? Just go home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel feels like he’s drowning here, lost in the dark without anything to grab on to and the panic just keeps rising because Dean’s turning away. He’s going to walk away and this may be the very last chance Castiel ever gets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a dick!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words blurt out before Castiel can really consider or refine them. But they stop Dean in who tracks, who looks back at Castiel, his lips twisted in a way that looks worried but ready to laugh at any moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Dean asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel coughs, rethinking the direction he’s trying to go. “I’m a dick. I can be a dick. A pretentious dick. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to tell me. I’m sorry for just assuming the worst about you when I could have just asked. I’m sorry for being a coward and standing you up instead of just being honest.” Castiel coughs again as Dean just watches him. “I’m also sorry… for not taking you seriously. I’m sorry that you ever got the impression that I was too good for you because I’m not. I think you’re single handedly the best person I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You barely know anything about me,” Dean points out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Castiel says with a smile. “It doesn’t really make sense to me either. All I know is that from the first time I entered this shop and you smiled at me, I have thought about you every day. I know that every day I walk through that door, even when I’m having the shittiest morning, I’m going to leave with a smile and that’s because of you. I know that I want to learn more about you. I want to get to know you, I want to know your whole story. If you’d let me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean is shaking his head. “Cas, you don’t have to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to do this,” Castiel corrects quickly. “Believe me I… I’ve wanted to this for a long time. And I know what I did was awful, but if there’s any way you think we could start over and try again… I’d really like to do that. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean considers him with a long, blank stare that drives Castiel absolutely insane. His entire body feels like it’s ready to implode. Finally, something softens in Dean’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Dean shrugs. “Not like I have anything planned for tomorrow night. I try to keep it open for this really hot guy that comes into my shop every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relief that floods Castiel is intense and almost exhausting. He breathes for the first time in days, a dopey smile curling softly against his lips. “Yeah? He must really be something to catch the eye of someone like you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Charmer,” Dean accuses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel laughs and wanders closer to the bar, drifting into Dean’s orbit. “I picked up a few tricks from this ridiculously gorgeous coffee shop owner I see every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean’s brows rise into his hairline, eyes tracking every one of Cas’s movements. “Gorgeous, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel nods. “Ridiculously. Like impossibly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like I have competition.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Castiel doesn’t stop until they’re chest to chest and he can feel the warmth of Dean’s body bleeding into his. “Not even a little bit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dean’s hands settle on Castiel’s waist, he’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven. They’re big and warm and grip him like they’re never going to let go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up this close, Castiel still can’t see the color of Dean’s eyes but he remembers that burst of green from the elevator, is pretty sure he’ll never forget it. But he can see more of Dean’s freckles and the fine lines around his eyes and we wants to kiss ever square inch of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you said you keep your Fridays open, but what are you doing tonight?” Castiel whispers as they lean just that much closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean smirks. “Nothing, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know a really great place to get coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The laughter that shakes in Dean’s chest makes Castiel beam. He wants to feel that a dozen more times. “I guess I can keep my Thursday nights open for you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I want you every night?” Castiel asks, lips just brushing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dean leans into it, teeth catching Castiel’s bottom lip and humming thoughtfully. “I can make that work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And so Castiel leans in all the way. And they kiss for the first time inside the coffee shop where they met and they’ll share many more kisses there for years and years to come. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>